Morton was informed of the sail in sight, but he was too much occupied in guiding the ship out of the labyrinth of reefs to make any other reply than the simple one, “If she is like an enemy get the ship ready for action.”
What he felt his countenance did not show.
The “Osterley” continued to thread the narrow passage; the slightest inattention would have brought her upon the reefs. Those who could employ their eyes kept looking now at the approaching stranger—now at the direction where they hoped the frigate would appear. At length old Doull’s deep voice was heard exclaiming, “We are free now, sir, of all dangers; we may stand away to northward.”
Ronald sprang down on deck, and the deep sigh which escaped his bosom showed the anxiety he had felt.
“Brace up the yards on the starboard tack!” he cried out, as he stepped aft, and, calling for his telescope, took a steady examination of the stranger. He expressed no opinion as to what she was, but ordered all the sail the ship could carry to be set on her. As she had now a large crew this was rapidly done. The stranger must have seen, by the way the “Osterley” made sail, that she was strongly manned. Captain Winslow and his officers, after a long look at the former, pronounced her to be the very ship which had captured them. Ronald longed to try and turn the tables, and to take her, but a glance at the passengers made him feel that his duty was in this case to do his utmost to escape. A bright look-out was kept for the frigate.
“If the mounseers catches sight of she, they’ll be inclined to put the helm down pretty sharp, and go about on t’other tack,” observed Job Truefitt.
As the stranger approached all doubt as to what she was vanished. She had before proved herself a good sailer. She maintained her character, and with a regret almost amounting to anguish, Ronald saw that there was little probability of avoiding a fight. He had brave men under him, but the Indiaman was badly armed, and the enemy had before found her an easy prey.
“We must, I fear, Winslow, place the ladies and children below, as you did before,” he observed, with a sigh. “I pray heaven the frigate may heave in sight, for the honest truth is, I never felt so little inclined to fight; yet, if fight we must, I should never fight more fiercely.”
“Spoke like a brave man, Morton,” answered his friend. “When I have helpless women and children under my charge, though I would fight to the last gasp to protect them, I would always rather run than fight.”
“Sail ho! ho-o!” shouted the man at the mast-head, with a prolonged cadence.